Uncle Spencer
by RobotRollCall
Summary: A boy and his godfather and can take on the world. Cute Uncle Spencer and Henry fluffiness.


_My first Criminal Minds fic! Oh, I started watching this and I fell down a hole, emerging thirteen seasons later with some new loves and seriously behind on this season of Supernatural. I blame Reid. Can't stop watching that boy._

 _Anyway, I love Reid, and would love to see more of the cuteness that is Spencer Reid and little Henry. This will probably end up being a series of one-shots. I'll add little stories as I think of them. If you have Reid and Henry suggestions, PM me and I'll find a way to add them in._

* * *

The end of a long day found Spencer Reid sprawled across the couch. A tiny weight pressed against his chest—Henry, warm and sleepy and smelling of baby shampoo. A day off for the BAU had remained, in fact, a day off, and Reid and Garcia had joined Will and JJ, packed a picnic lunch, and taken Henry to the zoo.

The day had been sunny and happy. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, and Reid and Henry were now basking in the contented feeling of a day well-spent. Garcia had left for dinner with Kevin, and Reid had offered to watch Henry and put him to bed, giving JJ and Will the chance to go out for a quiet dinner alone. Neither had needed much convincing, and Henry had jumped at the chance to spend the evening with Uncle Spencer.

As usual, Henry had balked at eating his vegetables with dinner, offering to do so in exchange for being allowed to stay up and watch a movie. As usual, Reid had agreed, under the condition that Henry get a bath and brush his teeth first, knowing well the boy would fall asleep about twenty minutes in.

Reid hadn't made it much further into _Toy Story_ than Henry had, waking up when Woody and Buzz were trapped at Sid's house and finding himself horizontal on JJ's couch with Henry snuggled up and snoring softly on his chest. He smiled and patted Henry's back, then turned his attention to the movie. He was too tired at the moment to manage the coordination it would take to get up without waking the sleeping toddler.

Engrossed in the movie, he didn't realize Henry was waking up until he felt a tiny finger poking at his arm. "Hey, buddy," he said, turning his head back to the boy. "You ready for bed?"

"Nuh-uh," said Henry—not argumentatively, simply stating a fact. Reid smiled, having expected the answer.

"You want to watch the rest of the movie with me?" he asked.

"'Kay," Henry replied sleepily. He poked at Reid's arm again.

"What do you keep poking me for?" Reid asked, curious.

"Nuffin'," Henry replied. _Poke_. "Hey, Unca Spence?"

"Mm-hmm?"

"How comes you got more different spots than me?"

"What spots?" Being a genius was not as useful as one would think in following a three-year-old's line of thought.

"My arm spots," Henry explained, sitting up. Reid grunted as all of Henry's weight shifted onto his stomach, then pushed himself up so the boy was on his lap. "See?" Henry thrust out his arm.

Reid stared at Henry's arm uncomprehendingly for a moment. "Henry, are you talking about your freckles?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Henry replied, dropping his arm. "You gots more different ones." He sighed as Reid failed to understand and poked a finger at his arm again. "See?"

Reid swallowed as his eyes followed Henry's little finger. It was resting on a cluster of faded scars near the crook of his elbow. He hadn't actually thought about his track marks in a while. They were barely even visible any more—Henry must only have noticed them because his face had been six inches away from them. "Yeah," he said softly. "I see."

"How comes they look different?" Henry pressed. "This one is the same," he added, pointing closer to his hand at something that actually was a freckle. "But not those." He poked them again.

For a fleeting moment, Reid got the sinking feeling that Henry was making fun of him. He shook it away, ashamed of himself. Assuming he was being bullied was still a hard habit to break. Henry's eyes held nothing but genuine, innocent curiosity.

"Well," he said, his voice feeling rough in his throat. It would be so easy to lie. To tell him they were just more freckles, or sun spots, or _something_. But he couldn't lie to Henry. He didn't think anyone had ever trusted him as completely as the little boy on his lap did, and even if Henry would never know he lied, he still couldn't do it. But could he actually tell him?

"It's complicated," he sighed. He glanced down at Henry. "Do you know what that means?"

"Uh huh!" Henry said proudly. "It means there's lossa pieces to a story!" Reid couldn't help smiling. Henry loved showing off new words he learned to his godfather. "Are you gonna tell me a story?" Henry asked excitedly.

Reid's smile fell. "I am. But I need you to understand, this isn't a very happy story."

"Oh." Henry looked thoughtful. "Okay."

Reid took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. "A long time ago," he started. "Before you were born, before your mommy and your daddy even met, there was a bad guy."

"Were you trying to catch him?" Henry asked.

Reid nodded. "We were. But this bad guy, before we caught him, he, ah, he caught me." Henry's eyes widened. "And your mommy and our friends came and saved me, but before they did, the bad guy hurt me."

Henry blinked up sadly at his godfather, reaching up a little hand to touch his face, as if searching for injuries.

Reid managed a small smile. "Don't worry, I'm okay now."

"Why did he hurt you?" Henry asked quietly.

"Well," Reid said carefully. "He thought _I_ was a bad guy."

Henry snorted dismissively. "That's silly. You could never bad."

Reid smiled, warmed by his assurance. "Well, this bad guy didn't know that." He sighed. "Anyway, they saved me, and we got the bad guy, and everything was supposed to be okay. But I…What happened to me was really scary. I was scared for a long time, even after it was over, and I was confused. And I…I found something that I thought was medicine. Something that I thought would help."

"Did it?" Henry asked curiously.

Reid shook his head. "No," he said softly.

"Cause you thought it was medicines but it wasn't really?"

Reid nodded, proud of his perceptive godson, but not wanting to look him in the eye. "The spots are where I put it in my arm, and it made me feel better for a little bit, but then afterwards I would feel sick, and scared and angry. I was mean to people, and the more of it I took, the more sick and scared and angry I got."

"Why didn't you stop?" He didn't hear any judgment in the small voice, for which he was grateful. Just curiosity. He still couldn't look at him.

"Because I was stupid," he said bluntly, and he heard Henry gasp. He knew his godson wasn't supposed to say 'the s-word'. "Because I thought things would get worse if I stopped. Because I was afraid my friends would get mad at me if they knew about it."

"So what did you do?"

"I realized that if I kept doing it, I would chase everybody who cared about me away and I would be sick and alone. I didn't want to be alone, and I didn't want to be mean to people who loved me. So I stopped. And for a while, I felt even worse. I felt even sicker, and I missed being able to feel good like the medicine made me feel, even if it was only for a little bit. And sometimes I messed up and I took it again. But my friends weren't mad. They encouraged me, and took care of me when I messed up. It took me a long time to get better, but I finally did."

"I'm glad you did," Henry said softly.

"Me too," Reid said, his eyes watering. "If I hadn't stopped, I think I would be dead now." Henry gasped. "I would never have gotten to meet you," he said shakily. "But I still have the spots," he whispered, rubbing them absently with his hand. "To remind me of what I did wrong. I don't know if they'll ever go away." Suddenly feeling overwhelmed, he jumped up and rushed to the bathroom, leaving Henry on the couch.

Bracing his arms on the sink, he rested his head against the cool glass of the mirror, focusing on getting his breathing under control. This had been a mistake. He'd always been secretly overjoyed that Henry thought he was cool, that he looked up to his Uncle Spencer who caught bad guys. That he'd felt safe and comfortable with him. What must Henry think of him now? That he was weak? Pathetic? He sighed, splashing cold water on his face. It had probably all been too good to last anyway. He buried his face in the hand towel, drying his face and the tears he was willing not to fall.

He heard the bathroom door creak, but paid it no attention until he felt a little pair of arms wrap around his knees. He looked down. "Henry?"

"I'm sorry, Unca Spence," Henry said sadly. "I didn't know asking 'bout your spots would make you sad." He hugged his knees tighter. "I won't do it again."

"No, hey, Henry, it's okay." Reid hurried to put the towel back on the rack and scooped the little boy up into his arms. "I'm not mad at you for asking."

Henry nuzzled his face into Reid's shoulder. "I'm glad you're not dead," he whispered, flinging his little arms around Reid's neck.

Reid hugged him back, walking back into the living room. Maybe Henry didn't think less of him after all. He sat down on the couch, and Henry shifted in his lap, looking thoughtful when he looked up at his godfather's face. "Stay here," he said after a moment, sliding off his lap and running from the room. Puzzled, Reid watched him go, and almost immediately heard the slap of bare feet on tile as he came running back. He clambered up onto the couch and held out the most tattered teddy bear Reid had ever seen.

"This is Remy," Henry explained. The fur, rubbed threadbare in several places, might once have been blue. Stitches and patches covered the stuffed body, marking numerous places where he'd been put back together. His two button eyes didn't match. "He was Daddy's teddy bear when Daddy was little. Now he's mine. He makes me feel better when I'm sad. You know why?"

"Why?" Reid asked, intrigued.

"Remy's been broked a lot," Henry said. "See?" He pointed at some of the more prominent stitches. "He knows how it feels like to be hurt. So he knows how to make it better when someone else is hurt. Even if it's not a outside hurt, but a inside one." He pointed to his chest to illustrate. He held the bear out to his godfather. "You can borrow him if you want."

Swallowing down a lump in his throat, Reid carefully took the tattered bear. "Thanks, Henry," he whispered.

Henry snuggled against Reid's side. "You know what I think, Unca Spence?"

"What?"

Henry placed his little hands around the scars on Reid's arm, stroking them gently. "I think your spots are cool. You did a hard thing and you beat it. They're brave spots."

Something warm purred happily in Reid's chest, and he scooped Henry back into his lap, hugging him tightly. His throat felt too tight to say anything, so he just hugged him for all he was worth. Henry happily returned the embrace.

"I love you, Unca Spence."

The tears that had been pooling in his eyes finally spilled over. "I love you too, Henry."

When JJ and Will came home later, they found Reid asleep on the couch, arms around Henry who was snoring softly against his chest. After a whispered conversation, they decided to let sleeping babies (and godfathers) lie. Will leaned in to kiss Henry's forehead and JJ did the same, pressing another soft kiss to the top of Reid's head. As she pulled away, she noticed the ragged blue head of a very old teddy bear nestled between her boys, and she smiled.


End file.
